


Nothing More Than Pure Insistence

by nubianamy



Series: Donut Holes [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Donutverse, London, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davis goes to London to get away from his life, and has an encounter with a certain familiar dance instructor.  Backstory for Davis Lawton and Toby Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing More Than Pure Insistence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for keepituseitbuilditmoveit on tumblr.

February 2005

Being in London without Carl felt a little like exile.  It didn’t matter how beautiful his surroundings, or how posh the hotel; Davis knew why Carl had bought him the ticket.   _You need a change of scene,_  he’d said.   _Some time to clear your head before we decide what to do next._

He’d honestly thought they’d been pretty careful to keep their leather activities out of the view of the public eye in Cleveland.  They seldom did anything local, preferring playing with the community in Columbus.  But the threatening letter from his recent case’s defense attorney was specific enough that Davis could tell the guy had actual dirt on them.  Or at least on him; it didn’t get specific about Carl, and he supposed he could have been playing with one of any number of guys.  Regardless, the letter’s message had been clear: drop the case, or they would out him to his firm.  

Davis brought the letter to Carl right away.  Even if they weren’t lovers anymore, he still depended on Carl for perspective on matters like these.  When it applied to his own life, his judgment tended to fall away.  Carl had listened, and held him while they discussed it, and in the end they’d come to the same conclusion.  He wasn’t going to be jerked around by a threat, and he wasn’t willing to risk being outed either.  He’d submitted his letter of resignation that afternoon.

So now, here he was, out of work for the first time in nine years, struggling through the morass of impending depression, which Carl hadn’t been able to spank out of him.  His answer was to put him on a plane with admission to the Royal Academy of Dance’s master class.   _You need to do something other than feel guilty,_  Carl had said.   _You need to dance._

The dancing was almost more depressing than anything else, considering how out of practice he was, but it was exciting, too, in a way.  Dancing in London was a bit of a dream come true, even if wasn’t because he’d made it or anything.  He’d have some memories to take back with him to Ohio.  

And, apparently, some of them were going to be associated with one of his instructors.  On day one they’d split into pairs to work through pliés and tendus and degages.  The man with whom he’d been paired had turned out to be not from London at all, but from a school in Denver — and even then, his accent had surprised him.  

“Hard to take the Kentucky out of this boy,” he’d drawled in the midst of rond de jambes. It had been enough of a kick to get Davis to invite him out for drinks afterwards, mostly (if he was being honest) to listen to him talk.  

But he’d turned out to be genuinely interesting.  They’d stayed up too late laughing about theater and dance; Davis had talked about law school and he’d talked about his dog.  Eventually their fingers had brushed, and Davis had had to have The Talk with him.  

“I don’t actually do anything vanilla,” said Davis.

The man laughed, running a thumb across the back of Davis’ hand.  ”You’ll have to define that more specifically for me before I get scared off.  I’ve done a lot.”

“Bondage. Pain. Control.”  Davis tried to look matter-of-fact, but the guy’s smile was doing things to his rational brain.  

“I can be into that stuff, darlin’.”

“That’s not the same as wanting it for yourself.”

Davis watched him consider this, swirling his drink in on hand.   “I’m not sure it’s up to you to decide what I like.  In fact, if I read you right, I’m pretty sure that’d be up to me.”

Davis smirked, but he couldn’t deny the words made him go a little weak.  ”You’re not wrong, but… you’re making some pretty big assumptions.  What if I don’t want it from you?”

“If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.  And, darlin’…”  He bit his lip, eyes dancing.  ” _Everybody_  wants it from me.”


End file.
